Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Author Archives: kayewer

• Long Road to Load

  Posted at 12:55 am by kayewer, on May 29, 2016

  We live in a world of nearly instantaneous gratification, so when my computer started loading much slower than usual, I was slightly concerned. Make that crestfallen. Make that ticked off. Okay, a range of emotions went through my head.  Not my lifeline to the digital world, and not now with a three-day weekend coming up. It’s bad enough when somebody takes your computer from you, but another when it quits by itself.

  Now I have to figure out what the bleep is wrong with it, besides the fact that it’s over three years old. I keep it clean, both in terms of surface and hard drive. I avoid viruses by having good software installed. Maybe it’s just one component, like the video graphics or an outdated hidden feature I don’t know about. But why does other stuff work okay? Maybe it’s just one website that is causing the trouble. So in times like this, we turn to the local computer technician for help, and I’m taking it there for diagnosis and treatment. Maybe its time has ended, and I need a new computer. Nothing lasts like it used to, especially electronics. The days of taking the old television to the repair shop are gone. Now people toss them on the curb.

  The thought of buying a new computer makes me cringe. There are too many choices, too many prices and too much hassle involved. Apple fans would love for me to come over to the dark side for over a grand, and Windows fans argue the finer points of good old Windows 8 against the latest Windows 10. And who knows what happened to Windows 9.

  Maybe I need to go back to the good old typewriter. A qwerty keyboard, a ribbon and a bottle of correction fluid. No printer needed.

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• Coin Artists

  Posted at 2:49 am by kayewer, on May 22, 2016

  TD Bank just announced that it is discontinuing their Penny Arcade automated coin counter machines after a lawsuit and NBC investigation shut them down a few weeks ago. You can bring in coins you have rolled yourself, but mechanical counting, the bank says, has lost its popularity, and they want to ensure accuracy for all bank customers.

  How the heck did coins become such a burden?

  To this day I am holding onto a Euro coin which nobody wants to exchange for me. I got it in change at a supermarket in place of a quarter, and I know it’s worth more than that. I refuse to give it up, and I’m determined to find somebody who will give me fair market value for it. Foreign currency exchanges won’t even touch it: I went to three in New York City and got the polite brush-off.

  A friend of mine is not above going to the mall food court and counting out coins in place of paper money. It does involve waiting while she separates and tallies up the denominations, but they spend just the same. Also, coins bulging in your handbag add quite a bit of weight. I should know: if I didn’t dump out my quarters and pennies once a week, I’d be carrying around the weight of a toddler on my shoulder.

  It used to be fun to go to the coin machine and have it spin your metal money around in a centrifuge like way. The Penny Arcade was a sort of interactive experience featuring a red-headed computer generated little girl who talked you through the process of getting paper for your coins. “Wow, you sure saved a lot of coins,” she says as she directs you to her friend the teller and reminds you to check the reject slot for any duds.

  It seems whatever magical force counted the coins registered more duds than they returned to the reject slot: the NBC experiment allegedly put $300 in coins in one Penny Arcade and it counted short by some $44.00. TD’s non-bank competitor, Coinstar, was found to be accurate, but you surrender 11 cents for every dollar you put in unless you elect to receive an e-gift card in place of cash.

  TD is still offering to give out coin sleeves so you can count your coins yourself, but I long for the days when coins were as valuable to a bank as paper.

  Here’s what I think: TD should replace the Penny Arcades with coin counting stations, complete with sleeves, sorters and hand sanitizer (coins do make your hands smell metallic). Somebody has to give respect to coinage, and it could redeem some of the damage done by this mechanical mayhem.

  Either that, or round everything up and abolish coins altogether.

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• The Great Experiment

  Posted at 1:41 am by kayewer, on May 15, 2016

  When I first began participating in social media, it was a scary idea. Everything said about social media discusses the pitfalls above the pleasures. Bullying and ignorance are just as prevalent on social media as in the school hallway or work restroom. But I took the chance and have a presence on a few sites. Strange, but I don’t feel any more social now than before. Maybe I feel even less human.

  Sure, we sometimes offer comments or other feedback, and we can track how popular we supposedly are by who reads what we post, but are those numbers actual measurements of real life? Is the person with one hundred friends less of a human being than one with one million? All it takes is one “friend” to post a hateful comment, and sometimes all the positive ones have lost their effect.

  Those of us who game on social media exchange lives and give little gifts as determined by the company producing the games. It’s a third party way of saying “Joe Blow said hello, and here is another chance to waste your time playing Sweet Bashing Story on your work time.” They know that extra lives or gifts won’t help you win the game any faster. They’ve programmed them that way.

  When you’re on social media, you can still do silly things like make bad posts while drunk, upload a selfie you forgot your boss can see because you have him on your friend list, or make a grammar error that offends somebody and they and their friends cause your computer to crash with their feedback about what a jerk you are.

  I really don’t want anybody to follow me on social media as if those who do are sheep just flocking around like-minded people: I want them to come on my journey with me. By my side. Respecting my opinions as I respect theirs. Don’t make jabs to put me down, and I’ll try to help lift you up.

  And I’ll send you an extra life or help you get the key to unlock level 254.

  I’ve realized that some of my social media friends are just curious about me: I know this because they added me to their friends list but don’t know exactly how to ask how I’ve been since the last time they saw me. We’re a shy bunch of social media friends.

  So what does it mean to post videos and comments and gaming help if we’re really not being very social on what is called social media? I don’t know. While I’m figuring it out, I’ll just keep posting. Maybe somebody will read this all the way through and answer.

   

   

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• A Dressing the Issue

  Posted at 12:44 am by kayewer, on May 9, 2016

  My mother pointed to a dress in the Lord & Taylor ad and said it would look good on me. That’s a subtle hint that I should try to get and wear that dress. It looked kind of nice, but of course no mention of it was made anywhere on the ad (“On the Cover:  etc.”) that would clue me in as to how to get that particular one. This meant either going to the store and having a discussion with a sales associate, or going online and trying to pin it down. I did the latter. The last time I went looking for a clothing article in a picture at the store, I wound up having a battle of wits with a sales associate at Macy’s who, of course, never got a copy of what she was supposed to be ready to sell to anxious customers like me. We found the article, but she was still too jaded to appreciate the smell of victory (over the smell of fake leather and fitting rooms).

  I found the dress easily enough on the website: a Vince Camuto. It took about three seconds to click on the size chart to find that sizes stopped at 14.

  Of course, one can’t blame the designer for restricting his sizes, but he did lose a potential first-time customer in the process.  Maybe next time–the third–will be the best experience ever. How I’ll get there, now that I’ve exhausted two different forms of shopping, is yet to be discovered.

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• The Gift in Gift Cards

  Posted at 2:15 am by kayewer, on May 1, 2016

  For Administrative Professionals Day I got cards and flowers and such, and I also got a few gift cards. Every gift card I receive is a golden opportunity, and I like to use them. Sometimes I accumulate them for a bit, but they always get used. I have already planned a visit to Starbucks to get a drink or two (but not of coffee, since I’m a tea drinker). I can visit Outback for their wonderful food which will take me five visits to the gym to work off (totally worth it) and Cheesecake Factory for dessert. Then I can hit Wawa (there seems to be one every two miles around here) and Barnes & Noble (not quite as many, but I know the locations of five of them). If I get stomach distress, I have a card from CVS. Once I feel better, I’ll do Dunkin’ Donuts.

  Stores seem to like their own gift cards more than cash or credit. I never get a bad attitude from somebody behind the counter when I use one. Recently I had a coupon mailed to me from McDonald’s for a free Extra Value Meal. Normally I don’t do a full meal because I like to have my own beverage–even if it’s just water–but I was on a time crunch and decided to go for it. The cashier didn’t know what to do with it and had to ask a manager. Funny how some of these things work: cards and coupons are both virtual reality cash, but one was more of an enigma than the other. Maybe they just didn’t know where to store it: under the cash or under the gift cards.

  Even if you get a card from a place you don’t normally visit, it can be a fun adventure just to poke your head in and try something on your gift giver’s dollar. It’s great to discover a new favorite. Some folks go on trading websites and swap for a familiar merchant card at a loss of some value off your original gift. I can’t picture doing that, especially if the gift card involves food. I’ll try something new at least once, and often I’ll end up coming back and having it again. Those same folks who trade their gift cards sometimes seem to feel that the giver shortchanged them by not getting an actual item, but I don’t feel that way. A gift card adds something new to a regular aspect of life–the shopping or dining experience–which puts you in control of what you buy, so actually the giver is getting that item for you in a way.

  Thank you for the gift card. Whatever I get, I’ll think of you as having wrapped it.

   

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• Here’s 2U

  Posted at 1:54 am by kayewer, on April 24, 2016

  I feel obligated to share my story about how Prince affected my life. Since his passing at age 57 was announced on April 21, a world of admirers and their messages have filled phone banks, print and social media with their own stories. My story is about his influence on my writing, and goes back to 1989.

  At the time, I was reading an international Prince fan magazine called Controversy. Over the years since becoming a Prince fan, I had developed an interest in many things, including some of the quirks and trivia associated with music. One afternoon, I was listening intently to a Prince album and singing along until I hit a stumbling block and thought I could do something about it. I prepared and submitted an article to the magazine about misheard lyrics (also known as mondegreens) in Prince’s songs, and the magazine printed it in the August 1st issue #18. What a thrill!

  The bigger thrill came with the next issue (October 1, #19), when the editor announced that Prince had actually read the issue and jotted down a quick reply to my article: his secretary contacted her and asked if she wanted to include it in the next issue and, after what I’m sure was a few moments of hyperventilating, the arrangement was made.

  When the issue went to print, I and myriad other fans were also hyperventilating. The fan in me was over the moon, but the writer in me leaped even higher. It was not just Prince reaching out to me as a fan or sharing something with all the fans reading the magazine; it was proving that my writing was not only worth publishing, but that the subject of the article read it himself. It was an honor and an affirmation to me to keep writing.

  I did go on to write more articles, eventually shifting to another newsletter after Controversy folded. The readers continued to praise my work, and I was and am grateful. Now that Prince is gone, a creative spark has flamed out. Writers, fans and all of us who communicate about his contributions to our world will keep the big light burning until we all get to see what he does in concert in the after world. For me, Prince opened the door to my writing, and I hope all my words in the future will be my thanks to him for that.

   

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• Keep Your Nose Clean

  Posted at 2:02 am by kayewer, on April 17, 2016

  I went to have my car washed the other day. After weeks of rain and schedules which didn’t match its hours (closes at 5:00 on weekdays to leave out most business folk for some reason), I finally had a day off and penned in a car wash on my calendar of things to do. The attendant had an attitude like car wash owner Bogdan Wolynetz  in Breaking Bad. Except I didn’t see any big eyebrows.

  After I got my proof of payment slip and a curt “pay inside” response, I entered the walk-through area to watch my vehicular baby get its spa treatment. I happened to look back outside toward the men who were vacuuming and applying “wheel bright” to my tires. The guy who had just helped me was standing where I had been moments before and blew a  snot rocket on the spot.

  Twice in my life I have so closely encountered men who have done this inexcusable thing on public space in my viewing range. My first thought this time was that I was likely to carry some icky stuff back into my freshly cleaned car, then my home. I was suddenly wishing with all my might that a sudden thunderstorm would come and cleanse the entire ground of the contamination.

  My mother has told stories about men using handkerchiefs, which then had to be boiled to clean them. This was before oxygenated detergents. With the arrival of tissues and the freedom movements of some 50 years ago, those went out of style, but apparently men don’t like to carry tissues anyway. I suppose that the pain of a wallet under one’s butt for hours daily is enough of a burden, but the solution is not to open-air de-snot oneself in public. Carry a couple of them, guys.

  Men belch, pass gas, scratch and adjust their nether regions in public, you might say, so why not toot the snoot as well? There used to be laws about expectorating in public (for a funny take on this, look up “Pay the Two Dollars” on YouTube), but now you don’t know what might be on the ground beneath your feet. I guess I can think about what happened this way: they use steam and jets outside the entrance, so maybe that spot did get cleaned eventually. The image in my head won’t be so easy to dismiss.

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• Funny How That Happens

  Posted at 1:45 am by kayewer, on April 10, 2016

  My can opener tried to take a plastic bag hostage. Maybe it had issues with the attention I was giving the bag, whereas I had not opened a can for a over a week. Really, though, it was just a crazy incident, resulting from factors beyond my control, that got the bag into the grips of the can opener.

  The great mystery of how air and matter come together in a single moment cannot be lost on an event like this. I had just turned around with the bag in my hand to fold it on the table. The handles were waving through the air. The magnetic arm of the can opener was in the same air space as the handles, and one handle was open at just the right angle that it caught on the arm. The one smooth motion I intended to make turned into an awkward tug of war with an inanimate object, which promptly fell over.

  It’s worth laughing at now, but if that bag had been a single man, and the can opener another single woman, blood might have been shed. At my stage of life, if the chance for an interaction with an available member of the opposite sex came along, I’d unsheathe the claws and ask questions later. As it was, I won the battle with the can opener, and the bag suffered no ill effects. I guess with a man it would mean no second date.

  Sometimes life is just that exciting. The score is one for me and zero for the can opener. And I still got the bag folded.

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• Stalled Progress

  Posted at 1:45 am by kayewer, on April 3, 2016

  The state of North Carolina is in the middle of a controversy regarding who can use gender specific public bathrooms. The governor signed a bill into law which affects opening up rest facilities to persons who identify as a gender other than the one into which they were born. Being human (or being a human being) is becoming more complex by the minute.

  I think this means it is time to change our bathrooms, not the people using them.

  Let’s look at what we’re dealing with. For all of us every day, using a bathroom is a biological necessity and a bane. Millions of us handle our bodily functions with decorum, but others, without going into gross detail, do not. In addition to the hygienic issue of the public use toilets, there never seems to be enough of them. The lines for women’s facilities are twice as long as men’s, and let’s face it: nobody likes to stand in a line that long, knowing what we’re planning to do once we get there anyway.

  So the “modern” restrooms have walls, a flimsy door and plenty of ventilation. Often there are gaps everywhere, which can also be abused by voyeurs, and the only thing distinguishing them, other than signs with stick figures of humans–one of whom has a skirt–on the doors are the addition of urinals for the men. Aren’t they a bit of an accessory anyway? Men can urinate in a toilet, but I guess it would put those scented cake manufacturers out of business if we do away with the porcelain penis-height peeing points.

  A person who may resemble a man but is actually a woman (or vice versa) normally should not have an issue with entering a restroom, except that men might expect users who can pee by unzipping their flies at the urinals. Does anybody really care if a woman who identifies as male enters a stall and sits to pee? If they wash their hands, who cares if they have one body part over another?

  Maybe what we need are all access bathrooms which are safe, non-gender specific, with ecology minded low flush toilets and a place to put one’s carried accessories (purses or coat) or a child (like on a changing table) without worrying. We don’t need to worry about showing our birth certificates to prove what gender we are when we have to go.

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• Through the Mouth

  Posted at 1:42 am by kayewer, on March 27, 2016

  Commercials sometimes annoy me. One in particular irks me every time it appears on television. The folks at Breathe Right®, the inventor of the nasal strip, features a commercial (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJAcDq_IxBcin) which they discuss what happens when your nose is obstructed and you are forced to become a mouth breather to compensate for the lack of open passageways. The newest clip on television includes a daughter video recording her stuffy-nosed mother, presumably for future shaming on social media. A cat appears to look on with contempt–well, maybe that isn’t so unusual–at its human in the same situation, stuck with his mouth open to breathe. “How can anyone sleep like that?” the voice-over lady asks. How, I ask, does anybody not breathe while sleeping?

  So when did breathing through one’s mouth become unpopular? Culturally the term “mouth breather” is often used as an insult to imply that somebody is less intelligent. Why is that, when air can get to the lungs, and oxygenate the brain, quicker by inches that way? I find it contemptible when somebody snorts or whistles through their noses, but I don’t shout “Nose whistler!” at them.

  So there is plenty of information out there about the causes of mouth breathing unrelated to allergies or colds, including reports from periodontists who claim that improper jaw or tooth alignment can affect closing your mouth properly. Other causes include large tonsils, a deviated septum (think anybody who has broken the nose) or nasal polyps.

  Nobody ever mentions that some people have a jungle of nose hair in their nostrils, which surely slows down normal breathing, and the folks at Breathe Right® have never tried to invent a nose hair machete. If they ever remake the 1966 science fiction thriller The Fantastic Voyage, it should still be about a crew of miniaturized scientists who are injected into a person to reach and treat a dangerous life-threatening condition, but instead of exiting the patient’s eye, they must chop their way out through the nose hair jungle.

  The idea behind the nasal strip is that a metal piece adhering to the outside of the nose spreads the outer edges of the nostrils to clear the airway. I actually tried the product once when I had a bad cold. The next morning, the strip was not on my nose, so a search party was called out and it ultimately turned up perched on the outer rim of the wastebasket. So it seems it didn’t keep my nose open, but it flew gracefully through the air and nearly stuck the landing.

  Sports figures tend to wear the nasal strips; sometimes they are color coded to match the team colors of those burly football players. If you’re the fashionable tight end, you want the right color strip on your nose. You can even get lavender scented strips, but since it is above your nose, and you have a cold, can you really smell it?

  I don’t know if mouth breathing is really as bad as they claim in the commercials, but I feel there are better ways to tout a nostril aid than making fun of its users. So when the ad comes on I simply sigh, through my mouth, and exhale through my nose.

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